Daycare was supposed to be our daughter Lizzie’s happy place. But then came the tantrums and tears; each mention of “daycare” filled her with dread. One morning, as I zipped her favorite purple jacket, she wailed, “No daycare, Mommy! Please!” My heart sank.

Initially, Lizzie had loved Happy Smiles Daycare. For two weeks, she’d raced inside, eager to play. But suddenly, everything changed.

We approached her teachers, who assured us she was fine after drop-off—quiet, maybe, but not distressed. Confused, I turned to my husband, Dave. Desperate for answers, he proposed a plan to hide a small microphone inside Lizzie’s beloved stuffed bear, Mr. Snuggles.

Reluctantly, I agreed. The next day, we dropped her off and listened intently. To our horror, we heard a child’s voice taunting Lizzie, threatening her if she told anyone.

We rushed back to the daycare, demanding to see Lizzie. Through the window, we saw her cornered by an older girl, Carol. We played the recording for the teachers, who were shocked. Carol was expelled immediately.

That night, Lizzie revealed, “Carol said there were monsters… and showed me pictures.”

We reassured her, explaining that she was safe now. In the following weeks, we found a new daycare and started therapy for Lizzie.

As we navigated the aftermath, I vowed always to trust my instincts. In our children’s lives, there’s no such thing as being too careful.